Immortal Camaraderie
by Zilent1
Summary: [Based on my LOTR RPG character] Estella is a 19-year-old girl who only wants to live out her dream of discovering Middle-earth. Things change when she's mistaken for an orc.


**Title:** Immortal Camaraderie  
**Author:** Zilent1  
**Rating:** G  
**Warnings:** All characters are OC. No actual LOTR characters will appear, nor be mentioned. See below.  
**Notes:** This is a little snippet based on my newly formed RPG character and the beginning of her friendship with an elf who accidentally tried to kill her. It's categorized under LOTR because of the settings. Should be an original but I don't want to get sued or anything :)  
**Archive:** °Z e n i t h Seraphic°, Fanfiction.net  
**Disclaimer:** LOTR settings are not mine. Character names come from BarrowDowns.com.   
-*-  
  


When Estella, daughter of Léoda, became 19, she had decided that she had wanted to do more with her life and get out of Archet. Being the remote settlement it was, where the people were no-one's sheep, she felt that she could do as she felt...as long as she stayed out of trouble. The first hurdle was to approach her mother on her decision. It would be a hard thing for Léoda, to let go of Estella, as she had already lost a child and probably would not be prepared for her remaining child to leave. After the death of your eldest son two years previous, who would?

On the eve of 28 Astron, by Shire reckoning, a hesitant Estella approached her mother. Walking into the kitchen, Estella encountered her mother, who was dangerously chopping potatoes for that night's stew. The sound of the talk swinging open caused Léoda to look up but not cease chopping. Estella always wondered how her mother could do that without cutting herself. She had never managed to ask as it always seemed to have slipped her mind. But now, considering it may be her last opportunity to ask for a while.

Léoda smiled at her silent daughter. "It's a lot of practice."  
Estella looked up, surprised. "How'd you...?"  
"By the questioning look in your eyes. Not to mention I can practically read you mind, young traveller."  
  
A look of confusion showed up on Estella's face. She had forgotten her mother was telepathic, but the 'young traveller' comment just downright confused her. She licked her lips and stood by the wall nervously, trying not to project her thoughts too much. "What do you mean by young traveller?"  
  
Her mother turned her attention back to the chopped potatoes, which she put into the pot near-by, and started to cut up a few carrots. "You've thought about leaving for a while now, and it's hard to not ignore those constant thoughts of yours. I understand quite well. You've always been like Ezel¹. Wanting to be close to nature." 

Estella was surprised at the mention of her deceased brother. Her mother rarely talked about him after his death and the reference to comparison shocked her. Before she could say anything, her mother intercepted. "You want to go out and discover the world, do you not?" Estella nodded. "Well then. Don't let me hold you back."

Estella pushed herself up from the wall and walked over to her mother, resting her hand on Léoda's now stationary arm. "Mama? You mean that I can go? That you won't mind?"  
  
Léoda lifted her head and looked her daughter square in the eye. "If you don't go, I'll kick you out." The sparkle in her eye betrayed her stern tone.  
  
Estella smiled and hugged her mother. "Thank you Mama!"  
  


Pulling away from her daughter and holding her at arms-length, Léoda smiled. "You've grown up so fast Estella," she sighed. "I would say something dreadfully sappy right now, about how I wish you weren't going, but you're old enough and ugly enough to look after yourself."

Estella pretended to look offended. "Old enough? I am far too old! I guess I shall go get ready for my departure--"  
  
"Which will be when?" her mother asked.  
  
"Um...in three days?"  
  
Léoda thought about this for a minute then said, "Nay. You will leave next month." Estella's heart sank at the later date as she wanted to leave as soon as possible and be true to her preparations.  
  
"Oh," was all she could say. Her mother had turned back to the chopped carrots, which she put into the pot. Putting the dirty dishes into the tub, she wiped her hands onto her apron and turned to the cardboard. "Estella, dear. Use your head or would you like me to find you a calendar?" Estella looked at her mother in confusion before it dawned on her.  


Next month was in three days time.

-~*~-  


Three days had past and, before Estella knew it, 1 Thrimidge had come. Getting up at the crack of dawn, she busied herself in her room, preparing herself for what was to come. Attaching one of her prized daggers to the outside of her boot, she then went about to tie on her leather armbands. Her first journey would take her out of Bree-land entirely and up to Fornost. From there, she had no idea where she would go. 

After strapping on her bedroll to her pack, she made her way down to the kitchen with her small pack in tow, which she deposited at the doorway. Adjusting the collar of her dark tanned tunic, she entered the kitchen to find her mother fussing over something on the kitchen bench. "Mama? What are you doing?"  
  
Her mother stood up and moved aside to reveal a small breakfast. "You're not leaving this house until you've eaten something."  
  
Estella walked over to the bench, where she proceeded to eat the meal. "You know, you didn't have to," she said in between bites of toast. Her mother just snorted and set about cleaning up the kitchen.  
  


As Estella pushed back her plate, which was cleaned of its contents, she made her way over to her mother who was looking out the kitchen window. Her mother didn't look at her as she approached, but continued looking out the window. Breaking the silence, she said, "You sure you want to go today? In this weather?"  
  
"Mama, If I don't go now, I'll never go. Besides, a little rain never hurt anybody." At that moment, the rain pounded harder onto the roof of the house, but it didn't bother Estella one bit. "I guess it's time."  
  
Making her way towards the front door, she put on her dark brown robe-cloak before she swinging her pack onto her back and opened the door, looking out into the rain. Her mother walked over with a sad smile on her face. Embracing her daughter for the last time, she felt the tears run down her cheeks. "You just be careful, you hear? I don't want to loose another child.

Pulling back from her mother, Estella looked at her, wiping the fallen tears from her mother's face. "Mama..."  
  
"Estella. You go live your dream. Don't worry about me, I'll me fine! Now go!" she said, pushing her daughter towards the door.  
  
Estella gave her a small smile and embraced her once again. "Love you, Mama," she murmured.  
  
"Love you too, Estella," came the muffled reply.  
  


Adjusting her pack straps, Estella stepped out the door and into the pouring rain. Lifting her head towards the heavens, she gave a grateful smile and proceeded to make her way down the garden path. On reaching the gate, she turned and waved to her mother, who waved in return. Then Estella carried on out the gate, unsure of what the future held. Making her way down the muddy path through Chetwood, she looked at everything through different eyes. She suddenly felt free, more so than she had ever been before.

She walked for little more than half an hour, when she reached Bree and the crossroad. All four paths lead to unknown destinations, three she would not be going down.  
  
"Now, Chetwood lies between the northern route and the East-West Road," she mumbled to herself. "But which direction is Chetwood?"  
  
Retracing her steps, she found herself facing the wrong direction, though she thought it right. Chetwood now stood to her left, but she could not tell for the other surrounding trees. The Bree inn looked over her, but she ignored it. Looking to her left, she saw a seldom-used path. Thinking that being the East Road to Hobbiton, she though the thought of why it looked barely used crossed her mind, she calculated that the path in front of her led north. Pushing her short hair back from her face, the rain still pouring, she started of in the direction of 'north', which was actually east. Instead of going down the mistaken 'eastern' North Road, to Fornost, she had gone down the East-West Road towards Rivendell.

-~*~-  


Three days after taking the wrong route, and three days since the rain had started and not ceased, Estella had unknowingly reached the midpoint between the Weather Hills and the Last Bridge. Her travelling had gone unnoticeably quicker because of her agile speed. But through the thinly gathered trees that surrounded the path, she felt someone watching her. Shrugging off her uneasiness as paranoia, she pulled her hood over her head and carried on her way, continuing with the bilingual conversation she was having with herself, which consisted of phrases of bad Sindarin and her native Westron.  
  
"Ae, i-orn uin taur!"  
"Why, yes. There are lots of trees."  
"Im na-firiel!"  
"Ha! That I am!"  
"Ú! Im na-yrc--"² She stopped mid-sentence when she heard someone in the distance. Deciding to ignore it as it was a public road, she continued in silence. Then a whoosh of air went right past her head. Turning her head, she saw an arrow embedded within the tree beside her. Panicking, she ran. The speed of her run was swifter than any man but a little slower than her attacker. Suddenly the sound of an arrow being released was heard, then an excruciating pain was felt in her side. Despite this, she continued on running but was getting slower with each stride.  
  
"Daro, coth!"³ came a masculine voice. As if heeding the foreign command, Estella stopped and leant on a tree to hold her up. She began to feel the intense pain and placed a hand where the arrow protruded her side. A wave of dizziness swept over her as she brought up a bloodied hand. Something landed behind her but, before she could turn around, she collapsed onto the ground where a welcoming darkness met her.  
  
-~*~-  


For the next four hours, she was thrust into a fitful and feverish sleep. Beads of sweat poured down her forehead and her cheeks were terribly flushed. Every once in a while she would give a sudden jerk as the pain from the wound pulsated through her. But what was more terrible was the constant shaking at every hour prior to receiving the wound. Her constant tossing and turning gave her lack of sleep and comfort.

While she should've been dead three hours prior to being shot, because she was a human, she was currently feeling the effects for that of an Elf, before they eventually died from the poisoning. The strange thing was that, as the poison tried to move deeper within her, it was rejected by her body, so was the healing process that the outsider was using. Before she knew it, everything stopped. The pain, the flushes, the jerks and the tossing. The poison had been fully rejected and her wound was healing, and she now slept peacefully.

Two hours later, Estella awoke to find someone prodding her side. Groaning at the slight pain, she swatted at the hand and rolled over. Suddenly she shot up and was face to face with a young male elf. His handsome face was draped with long dark brown hair, in which two strands, on either side of his face, were braided back and dangled behind his pointed ears. But what unnerved her the most were his bright green eyes, which were staring straight into her own dark brown ones. All she could do was sit there in shock and surprise. He then said something in Elvish, in which she only understood one word: haru, or wound. She shook in head to indicate she had no idea what he said.   
  
He then frowned and appeared to be in deep concentration before he spoke again. "Does your wound still pain you?"  
  
Snapping out her shock, she answered, "Only a little." She looked around her, to find herself deep within a ring of trees, the East-West Road was nowhere to be seen. "Where are we?"  
  
A pause then, "A little off the road. Please, do not be worried. The worst of the poisoning process may be over, and the wound already healing, but you--"  
  
"What? Already? But I was _shot_ with an _arrow_! A _poisoned_ one at that! How could I have already be he--" she screeched, but never finished her sentence.  
  
"What is your name?" he asked calmly.  
  
"Why?" she asked stubbornly.  
  
Another pause then, "If you tell me yours, then it may help as to why you healed so quickly. Though," muttering to himself, "it is quite obvious why." Estella didn't appear to have heard him as she was too busy looking for her 'wound'. He then seated himself onto a near-by log and waited for her to answer.  
  
"Estella. Daughter of Léoda," she said, pulling her tunic back down.  
  
"But your father's name is that of a female's, is it not?" the elf said, confused.  
  
"Well, aren't you the genius? I do not have a father. Well, I do, but no more."  
  
"Did he...?" he trailed off.  
  
"He left," she replied curtly. "Enough about me. What is _your_ name?" she asked curtly.  
  
He laughed at her bluntness. "Táratathraion."  
  
She blinked at the name but another thing came to attention. "What? You not have a father either?"  
  
He looked at her, confused at her wording. "I have a father, but I do not see it as any of your business."  
  
She snorted before muttering, "You sure were interested about knowing about mine."  
  
He chuckled, having heard her. "I like to know others affairs. So, where do you hail from?" 

At this, Estella got up and looked in the direction that she presumed South, having still thinking that she was heading towards Fornost. "My home is where I left three moons ago, presuming today is still the same day I fell. Where I am from is far away and I may not be going back."  
  
From the log, Táratathraion looked up at her. Her short black hair was matted against her head and her face was covered in smudges of dirt. The look of a youth granted freedom was replaced by a look of sadness. "Why do you not go back if you look so sad?"  
  
"Nay. I left by my own free will. I wished to explore the whole of this world and I do what I set out to do. Though, I don't think I will last long if I am struck by an arrow only three days of promising not to get into trouble."  
  
Táratathraion then stood up and walked over to the girl, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Next time, do not declare yourself an orc in Elvish. Particularly when," he faltered as he grinned. "Particularly when I am near."  
  
She then spun around, a look of rage on her face, which disappeared when she found out how tall the elf, was, compared to herself¹². The humour of the situation got to Táratathraion, who grinned wider. Despite his height advantage, she angrily looked up at him. "Think it's funny, do you? You thought _I_ was an _orc_ and you _shot_ me? I should hurt you for doing that!"  
  
"Calm down, _tithin pen_. You cannot harm me, even if you so desired to," he laughed.  
  
"What did you call me?" she snapped, glaring at him.  
  
"Tithin pen?" he asked.  
  
"In Westron, please!"  
  
He suddenly leapt up onto an overhanging branch and easily climbed his way upwards. "It means 'little one'," he called down.  
  
From his position high up, he heard her growl of anger then her loud voice. "Little one!? Why, get back here you coward! Say it to my face!"  
  
He appeared behind her and laughed, causing her to scream out loud before spinning around. "I already did. Now, you never answered my question. Where are do you hail from?"  
  
"Vinyalondë," she said, using the first city she could think of.  
  
"No, really?"  
  
"Like I said, Vinya-- ok, fine! Archet!"  
  
"Heh. You give up too easily," smiling as he hung upside down from the branch.  
  
"Hmph." Then she grinned slyly. "Give up easily, you say?" With that, she pulled down on the branch that he hung on, causing the unsuspecting elf to fall off and land ungracefully onto the ground. "Ha! Revenge!"  
  
"Estella, it was a mere accident. If you did not have your hood on, I would not have shot at you," he said, brushing himself off.  
  
"Oh, sure. Well, I best be off. I have no need for an annoying and murderous elf," she said, walking past the fallen elf and picking up her pack. "But I must thank you for trying to kill me," she said sarcastically.  
  
"It was my pleasure," he replied humorously.  
  
She spun around and glared at him. "Quiet, Ungraceful one!"  
  
"Hey! I resent that!"  
  
"Well, if you can get away with calling me Little One, I can call you Ungraceful One," she reasoned with a smirk.  


Adjusting her pack on her bag, she cast a look in the direction of the elf, who had gotten up and was looking at her with a strange expression on his face. She sighed and pushed back the hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. "So, where do you come from?"

"_Where_ I am from? Well now, that is a good question considering I am from everywhere. I am from the Northwest and I am from the South. But, as one may say, I live in between them both."  
  
Estella was confused. "You speak in riddles."  
  
He smiled sadly and looked towards where the horizon that was visible through the trees. "Nay. For I am an Exile. I was conceived in Harlond, a haven on the Gulf of Lhûn, but my kin are from Edhellon. I will not burden you with details as you need not know them. They are of no importance, for all you need to worry about is that I am a _randír_, a wanderer. Something that you may find rare in Elves, or what I know of, for I have not seen or known of any others." He turned back to Estella, who was staring at the elf in astonishment, and laughed lightly. "_Bain-iell_¹³, do not stare at me so. I am nothing more than you are."  
  
Estella stared at him blankly. "Huh?"  
  
He laughed again, in spite of himself. "You are also a wanderer, but a learner at that."  
  
"What if I am just a traveller?" she retorted, wanting to prove him wrong.  
  
He smiled. "If you were just a mere traveller, you would be on horse or making haste. But, alas, you are doing neither. You think me wrong? Then, pray tell, where are you going?"  
  
"To Fornost." He laughed. "What?" she asked, flabbergasted.   
  
"Fornost? Fornost is many leagues from here. Many leagues in the other direction, _hên randír_!"²³  
  
"WHAT!?" she screamed. Táratathraion laughed merrily and Estella glared at him. Hauling her pack off her back and rummaging through it, she pulled out a tatty old map. Trying to make out where she was proved fruitless as all she saw was trees. Táratathraion then walked over, took the map off the panicking girl and hoisted her up onto his shoulders. At the sudden act of being lifted up by the elf, Estella shrieked and tried to squirm her way out of is grip.  
  
"Put me down! Put me down, Elf-Boy! Right now!" she shrieked.  
  
"Estella, be still. Look towards the Sun and tell me which direction she is crossing the sky," he asked calmly.  
  
"I don't know! Now put me down!" He obeyed her and gave her a sheepish smile. "You only did that so you could feel me, didn't you?" she accused, pulling the bottom of her tunic down lower. Táratathraion blushed beet red and shook his head vigourously. "No I didn't!" he protested, but he was still blushing. "I was only trying to prove my point that you were travelling in the wrong direction."  
  
Estella glared at him. "Then why are you blushing?"  
He went wide-eyed. "Nay, I am not!" he said defensively and gave a nervous laugh to ease off his nervousness.  
  
She continued to glare at him. "Don't deny it! It just better not happen again, Elfy."  
  
"It won't. On the name of the Valar, it will not happen again."  
  
"Good. Now, the Sun is there," she said, pointing towards the Sun, which was in front of them.  
  
"Yes. And which direction does the sun set?"  
"West. And?" Then it dawned on her. "So, you mean to say that I've been heading _West_?"  
  
"Aye, _hên randír_. It seems so" he said sympathetically.  
  
She looked him in the eye. "How did you know?"  
  
"Know what?"  
  
"That I was a wanderer and not a mere traveller?"  
  
He smiled a toothy smile. "Call it elf-tuition."  
  
"Ha! Elf-tuition! What are you? Female?" she said scathingly.  
  
Táratathraion frowned. "I do not understand."  
  
Estella laughed and ran off. Taratatrion stared after her then attached his quiver and bow to his back and clambered up a near-by tree, and began to follow her, going through one tree to another. Thinking she had lost him, she stopped and caught her breath. The next thing, déja-vu struck and, an arrow shot out of the trees and embedded itself into a tree, an inch away from her face. Her head shot up and glared in the general direction of which the arrow came from.  
  
"Elf-Boy! That wasn't funny! That could've hit me!" she shouted out.  
  
"But it did not hit you!" came his reply. "Besides, you are going too far North! You will never be able to get back onto the road if you continue going that way!"  
  
"Maybe I _want_ to go North! I don't care! I'm a wanderer, remember?" she shouted back.  
  
"_Hên randír_, actually," came his voice from behind her, causing her to scream.  
  
"Gah! Don't do that! And what does that mean?" she cried out, her hand over her pounding heart.  
  
"Many apologies. _Hên randír_ means 'child wanderer', for that is what you are. You are a mere child in this land. You know not much."  
  
"Child Wanderer, Little One. What else are you going to call me? Never mind, don't answer that." Reflexively, she went to adjust her pack but found that she didn't put it back on after the map incident. "Oh no!," she moaned. "I don't have my pack. What am I going to do? Elf?" She receiving no reply, she saw that Táratathraion was nowhere in sight. "Elf?"  
  
Turning around frantically, she began to panic for some strange reason, and pressed herself against a tree in case he tried to shoot her again. "Ok, this isn't funny!" she shouted out.  
  
"What isn't funny?"  
  
Estella screamed as his voice came from behind her again. She spun around, ready to yell at him, but stopped short when she saw what he was holding. "Y-you got my pack."  
  
Táratathraion smiled and handed it to her. "I believe you would need it, Little One."  
  
Estella gave him a genuine smile and thanked him. "Well, I must be on my way then."  
  
Táratathraion looked at her. "Why are you departing so soon?"  
  
"The sun is still high and I must go further." With that, she turned in a random direction and walked off. Táratathraion just stared after her, the wheels in his head working overtime.  
  
-~*~-  


Two hours through rough terrain and the road nowhere in sight, Estella sat down on a log and sighed. She had no idea where she was headed. Another case of déja-vu struck as she felt someone near-by. Jumping up, she started off in another random direction. Before she knew it, she was back on the East-West Road. She mentally rejoiced at making it back to the road and was about to turn East, when a familiar voice rang out through the trees.

"I wish I could go down the Harad Road. It had been many a long time since I walked that road. But alas, it ventures too close to the Ered Lithui that border Mordor. But, if I were to ever go that road, I should turn back and make way to Bree, for I should travel the North-South Road as the East-West Road will take me to the Misty Mountains instead."  
  
"Why are you following me, Elf?" she growled out.  
  
"You may need me," Táratathraion said, as he stepped out from behind her.  
  
"You just want to annoy me, don't you?" she retorted.  
  
He grinned. "And that too."  
  
"Ok," she sighed dejectedly, "You may join me, Elf."  
  
"Many thanks, Little One," he said, giving her a mock bow.  
  
"Would you stop calling me that, Elf!" she huffed.  
  
"Why do you call me Elf?" he asked curiously.  
  
She went red and mumbled something incoherent. Táratathraion grinned, hearing her, but decided to tease her. "I'm sorry, what was that?"  
  
"I said, I can't pronounce your name!" she yelled, her face red with embarrassment.  
  
"It's easy. Táratathraion. Say it after me. Tára-ta-thra-ion,"³¹ he said to her like she was a toddler.  
  
"Taratathrion," she said, badly.  
  
"Say it again. Tára-ta-thra-ion," he repeated, with a grin on his face.  
  
"Can't I just call you Tára?" she pleaded.  
  
"Nay."  
  
She tried again. "Tat?"  
  
"Nay," he said, shaking his head.  
  
"Thraion?" He laughed but shook his head.  
  
"Then what can I call you, Táratathraion?"  
  
"Just that."  
  
"What!?" she shrieked.  
  
"Táratathraion," he said.  
  
"But I can't even say it!" she protested.  
  
He laughed, "You just did."  
  
"But can't I call you something shorter?" she pleaded.   
  
"Nay."  
  
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and pouted. "You're hopeless."  
  
"I know I am, Dínalphien," he said seriously, though there was a certain sparkle in his eyes.  
  
"Say what?"  
  
He grinned, "'Tis your elf name."  
  
"What does it mean? Hey! Get back here, Elf!" she yelled, before running after him.  
  


Thus began the immortal camaraderie between Dínalphien and Táratathraion. 

**End.**  
  
  
**A/N:** Mou! So much dialogue! _! So, like it? Didn't like it? Tell me your thoughts: review! :) Constructive criticism is gratefully welcomed, but flames are not. If you do C&C, don't comment on how bad the elvish is, I already know ~_~. But if you want to correct it...^_^ you can do so.  
  
**Footnotes**  
¹ Ezel = green  
² Ah, a tree of the forest.*  
I be mortal maid.*  
No! I be [orc]--*  
³ Stop, enemy! °  
¹² I read that Elves are over six feet tall. Estella is only 5'1".  
¹³ Fair-maiden °  
²³ Child wanderer °  
³¹ _I_ don't even know how to pronounce it ^^;  
  
[Note:] *_For Estella_: The Sindarin grammar is _meant_ to be incorrect.  
_° For Táratathraion_: There may be an error in what he says. It's not intentional ^^;  
  
**References**  
"The Lost Road and Other Writings" by J.R.R. Tolkien  
"Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-Earth" by J.R.R. Tolkien  
**[Encyclopedia of Arda]** http://www.glyphweb.com/arda/default.htm  
**[The Language of the Elves]** http://members.ams.chello.nl/a.grigny/quenya.html   
**[The Sindarin Dictionary]** http://www.jrrvf.com/~hisweloke/sindar/


End file.
